


I'll Be Your Gypsy Lane

by BarbarianLibrarian, prettymanly



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-10
Updated: 2014-03-10
Packaged: 2018-01-15 06:51:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1295536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarbarianLibrarian/pseuds/BarbarianLibrarian, https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettymanly/pseuds/prettymanly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Cuz you're my Waterloo<br/>I'll be your Gypsy Lane<br/>I'm so glad we know just what to do<br/>And exactly who's to blame"<br/>- The Libertines<br/>A slice of life from two down and out gangsters of an earlier Republic City. Mako (12) and a younger Shin (22-24) are already business partners, the latter training his young charge in the art of loan sharking. They careen wildly around the city on an old scooter named MeiMei doing odd jobs, but above all, they learn how to survive together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Be Your Gypsy Lane

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [You're My Waterloo" by The Libertines](http://youtu.be/OQN_dlUKtsg). Crossposted [here](http://fabulouslyfreshmako.tumblr.com/tagged/rp%3A-Gypsy-Lane).
> 
>  _Dai Dai_ : Cantonese for little brother  
>  _Ge ge_ : Mandarin for elder brother

Hitching a ride on the back fender of the trolley that lead to the poor housing had gotten him a thick, fat line of motor oil across the back of his pants. He ignored the way the drying gunk stuck the worn, patched up fabric to the floor and continued swinging his feet slowly, each lean, coltish leg stuck through the gaps of the metal fencing lining the stairwell. The summer heat was bad enough that Mako was wearing one of his most threadbare of shirts, the high collar and first knotted fastener left open to let in some air, long and oversize sleeves rolled up to the elbows. He’d fished it from a relatively clean dumpster in the better residential district, the only thing that had lead to it’s placement there being some paint stains that had long since faded from general use and repeated handwashings. Now that he was sheltered in the cool darkness of the building, it felt almost too thin.

Mako leaned his forehead against the chipped bars keeping him from toppling forward to an untimely demise, shoulders sagging as he let out a bored, tired exhale. The burning cigarette between his fingers leaked thin trails of white smoke into the air, like long, curling water snakes. He took a slow drag, giving a toss of his head briefly to keep the longer edges of his bangs from getting singed by the glowing cherry, stuck in the uneventful limbo of waiting for Shin to get back from... wherever.

A reddish-purple bruise mottled the area near the ridge between his eye and cheek, while a dark line of scabbed over skin right in the middle of his lower lip scratched and dragged against the rolled paper stuck in his mouth. His stomach gurgled a bit in protest of not being filled, but he knew that’d go away soon once the nicotine started to work it’s magic in his system. Kicking his worn shoes out in a lazy kind of impatience, he pressed his face through a gap in the railings and looked down, hoping for the sound of footsteps or the slam of a door. Maybe even snide cursing.

_Something._

\--

It was hot enough that Shin finally had to remove his jacket and carry it draped over his shoulder, though even that pseudo layer across his back was making him feel disgusting. At the same time, he felt almost naked without it on, his arms long, skinny and all too visible in his short sleeves. Too thin and too gawky, his was a body meant for the hanging of well-tailored jackets. Not that he could afford more than the two he owned, but he was working on that. In his free arm, Shin carried a bulging sack from the grocers. He’d bought wine, tobacco and rolling papers. With the money he had left over, he’d made a vague attempt at healthy eats, but had given up after he went down the line of discount produce bins and just grabbed a bit of everything he saw. He intended to figure out what he could do with what he got once he reached the relative coolness of his apartment that was shaded by the surrounding tenements.

The moment the front of his building came into view, he’d have jogged his way the last block or so, but weakened by heat, Shin simply slunk his way from shadow to shadow, ghosting along the sliver of shade provided by the nearby buildings until he finally got home. He cursed as he dropped an apple, found it again, nearly stepped in dog shit. Then he had to struggle through a gauntlet of old people lounging around and fanning themselves as they clipped their toenails and played paisho.

“Your _dai dai_ is waiting for you,” said one of the newer tenants, Shin could never remember her name. Not that she could remember his or that Mako wasn’t actually blood related -- as if their appearance and coloring didn’t make it obvious. Shin grunted in acknowledgement and made his way up the creaky old stairs. The place had been really swanky once upon a time, but no longer. It was a faded glory like most of this part of the district. Gone where the fancy light fixtures and ornamental doodads on the ceilings. The tiles underfoot were dirty and pushing up crookedly as if roots or the ground was pressing upward from underneath. The walls were painted over rather than replastered and the layers of previous paint jobs were visible in the new network of cracks forming on top.

He saw Mako’s feet first, then the skinny legs, the hunched shoulders. Smelled the familiar dried smoke of tobacco. “You know where the key is,” Shin said as he pulled the key in question from under the doormat to unlock his door. “What’re you doing here?” When he turned to get a better look at Mako, Shin saw the bruises on his face. He asked, “And what happened to you?”

Shin plucked the cigarette from Mako’s fingers and took a long drag from it, filling his lungs with welcome smoke. Breathing a stream from his nostrils, Shin handed it back.

\--

“There’s actual air flow out here, your apartment’s like a furnace,” Mako drawled, not rising from his seat at the banister just yet. He only looked mildly offended when Shin jacked his smoke, but allowed it, tapping the ash over the open side of the staircase when it was forked over.

“A couple of jerk-offs who’ve been hassling me and Bolin had something to prove, all of a sudden. They usually pick on the younger kids or winos, you know. Ones who don’t fight back. They definitely know they’ve been in a fight, now,” he answered without a trace of smug pride, just tired satisfaction that he’d managed to send a few of them on their asses. They’d definitely be looking for payback, which is the exact reason he’d chose to relocate to another area. Bolin had been more worried about what injuries he’d gotten than having to ‘find a new home’ for the umpteenth time that year.

He pulled himself to his feet and dusted off his slacks, following the elder man inside. Mako needed work and that’s what he’d answer with if asked again, because mentioning that he was both bored and had actually missed Shin’s company was a little too touchy-feely for either of them to accept. The twelve year old took his usual station at the opposite side of the small table in the kitchenette, shutting the sliding door of the bread box closed when he passed the counter near the ice-box. Shin was always complaining about stuff getting left open and the rat problem that presented, without realizing it wasn’t his newfound visitor forgetting to put things back where ‘they should be’. Rather than argue, Mako just grew accustomed to cleaning up after the gangster.

The airflow was stagnant and Mako could only take so much of the heat before he pulled his shirt over his head, the thin, almost see-through undershirt beneath looking about two sizes too large for his rail-thin frame. He draped the folded fabric over the back of his chair and sighed again, propping the heels of his shoes against the loose footrest bar that creaked whenever weight was placed against it.

\--

Shin undid the knot buttons on his shirt, letting the sweat-soaked material hang free around his ribs. He picked out the smushiest looking tiger-apples from the bunch, did the same for the other produce and stuffed the healthiest in the icebox. Shin brought a knife with him to the table Mako sat at, dropping it and the apples in front of him. “At least you showed them what for,” Shin said. “They’ll start calling you boss if you stab one of ‘em in the eye. Though... I guess with luck bein’ what it is, that kid’ll be the one with a da that actually cares and you’ll end up in kiddie jail. S’not a good place. The food’s terrible-- and if I’m the one sayin’ that you know it’s bad.”

He sat down opposite Mako and set to fumbling with the rolling papers as he spoke. He attention simply wasn’t there, though, spilling more tobacco across the table than on the damn paper as his mind wandered. Little snippets of overheard conversations, the news he’d  just gotten from Ping and Ming about some of the shipments and something about another family moving in on the fishmarkets on the other side of the harbor. He wasn’t sure what or why, but there might be an opportunity to make a few extra yuan from the fallout of whatever was brewing.  

“They’ll probably come back,” Shin said. “You’re better off rounding up some guys to help.” Not that Shin was offering himself. He wasn’t about to go across town just to knock some sense into a bunch of children when their parents clearly should have been taking a belt to them. But there had to be kids Mako’s age that were looking for a group to hang with.

\--

When Shin joined him and began rolling more cigarettes, he cracked one disapproving eye open and slumped forward, wordlessly snatching the rolling papers and sack of tobacco from his inept senior. Small, spidery fingers worked with practised ease and precision, Mako having first learned this trade when Rong and his friends were too hungover to do it themselves, their wrinkled fingers jittery from withdrawal. He leaned forward and licked a wet stripe down the edge of the small paper after gently distributing and rolling a perfectly even, thick cylinder- sealing it closed and pinching off any stray tobacco at the edges.

“I don’t have friends,” Mako stated dryly, like he was mentioning the weather. “The other kids’re around Bolin’s age, so I take care of them, too. The older ones’re all two-bit chumps who think they’re tough as nails or something. They don’t like me, I don’t like them. So long as they stay outta my way, could care less what they think,” he shrugged, setting the first cigarette aside to start rolling up another.

“Moved Bolin in with some Boomers down by the railway boneyard. There’s enough younger, stronger guys there to keep an eye out for him while I’m away, so long as I help ‘em out and give a little back to the community.”

\--

Shin snorted, “Well, that’s not smart. You don’t gotta like them, but havin’ a crew around is useful.” Well, it was up to Mako. Now that he didn’t have to roll his own damn cigs anymore, Shin began to slice up the tiger-apples. One of them was definitely spotty and bruised all the way to the center. Its flesh was bland and mealy as he bit into it. Tolerable, though. “Keep an eye out for what someone means by givin’ back to the community,” Shin added darkly, “Some folk’ve got no sense o’ proportions. They want legs when you only owe a finger. Knew a guy where it went that way. Hasn’t been the same since.” Shin drew his thumb across his collarbone and down his chest, hooking the top of his undershirt and dragging the collar partially down as he mimed a long diagonal cut that, while probably not fatal, wouldn’t be something easy to heal and walk away from.

Shin shoved the rest of the apple slices over at Mako and went to get a drink. It was to early to start on the wine, but Shin figured he could use the relief. Maybe if he made himself numb enough, he wouldn’t feel the heat. He needed to visit a few places later, too. He wasn’t looking forward to that. The ride across town was going to be terrible under this sun. There were a few folk that were late on their payments that needed a bit of talking to. “I got some business with Wong and Wu later today. Don’t got much after that. Pavillion’s going to smell something awful in this weather, with all that damn perfume.”

\--

Mako stopped what he was doing and listened, nodding in agreement. He wasn’t born yesterday, but he appreciated the warning all the same. A nice little chorus line of smokes was snaking it’s way across the table as Shin bumped and banged things around at the counter, the boy popping an apple slice between his lips without looking. He’d been expecting the crisp snap of the fleshy skin and a satisfying crunch, but the apple basically turned into cold mush in his mouth. And it was gritty, somehow. Making a face, he swallowed it down audibly, but said nothing.

He shrugged in response when informed that it’d be a day of slim pickings, honestly not minding. He’d been more interested in the elder man’s company as well, but yuans were yuans and he wasn’t about to turn down an opportunity, even if it was chump change.

“I’ll watch MeiMei while you’re flapping your gums with those two, I don’t have anything else to clock-in for.”

Mako stuck the cigarette he’d just fashioned between his lips, then picked another up off the table, offering it in silent question. Usually they just shared the same one to cut down on wastefulness, but seeing as Shin’d just bought a decent amount of tobacco that day, they wouldn’t have to pass back and forth.

\--

Shin tipped the bottle back, his throat working as he drank long in one continuous drought that only ended when his breath ran out. He wiped the spill off his chin with his wrist, sighing with audible satisfaction. Ah, that really washed the tiger-apple down good. A whole year later, Shin finally that icebox had been an excellent investment.  

“Yeah, sure,” said Shin as he grabbed the matches off the counter and brought them with him. The wine bottle left a small circular print of condensation on the table top as he put it down and slid it off to the side, far enough from the cigarettes so the rapidly pooling water wouldn’t touch them, yet close enough that he wouldn’t have to reach very much for his drink. He took the cigarette Mako offered, eyeing it critically. Not bad at all. Maybe he could further his own laziness and throw a few yuan at Mako for the sake of evenly rolled, evenly distributed tobacco. Given time and focus, Shin could easily produce the same. Unfortunately his attention was always wandering and he was just too damn lazy.

“Y’know, you could light your own, what wit ya bein’ a firebender and all,” Shin mumbled as he slipped the cigarette between his lips. The thin white tube bobbled up and down as he spoke. Still, he leaned forward obligingly as sulphur sparked and a small flame appeared, turning the small blue match head into ash. His eyes half-closed in pleasure as the first curls of smoke hit his lungs.

\--

Normally Mako did use his bending, even for situations like these. It was useful for keeping warm, re-heating whatever food they dug up, and sanitizing drinking water. Instead, he rested his hands against the table and pushed off the footrest of his chair, leaning forward and into the source of heat. Only half of his cigarette was burning once the flame extinguished, so he pressed in more and tilted his head differently until the unlit side kissed the burning cherry. The glowing embers from Shin’s cigarette ate away at the paper as he inhaled, lifting a hand to steady his own. The quiet hiss of the lit tobacco broke through the silence and Mako drew his hand away, lips parting as a small cloud of smoke trailed from his mouth before being drawn back in. Definitely better than some rotten apples. If they were going out in a few, he could always hit the food stalls while he waited.

He sat back again and blew a trail towards the ceiling, watching the blades of a wooden fan spin lazily in a slow circle.

“What do you have to do at the Pavilion?” he asked, not quite sure what that was. He’d heard about it before in passing, but hadn’t asked about it until presently. He was mildly curious, now that it had been mentioned.

\--

At the Pavilion, he’d have the honor of basking in the presence of fine dames with great gams -- all bitchy, sharp-tongued, and cursing up a storm as they suffered under too many silks and cheap jewelry.  And the perfume. They’d be using up entire bottles, just slathering it on to cover the scent of sweat. Shin shuddered visibly. Nah. He wasn’t going to subject himself to that.

“Some people I know owe me money. Figured it was about time to go around and remind them they have to pay me back some time. But it’s too damn hot. Maybe I’ll swing past Wong’s real fast and then just skip the Pavilion. I always get hives going past in the summer from all the damn perfume. At least moving that fast will get the air moving, even if it’ll still probably be hot as Agni’s sweaty crotch. Are you coming with me?” Shin always asked even though Mako almost always said yes. Perhaps it was it was the business-oriented part of his nature. He liked to know where the lie of the land was, so to speak. Each time they stepped out the door was like shaking hands over a new deal. Mako was such a pint-sized wheeler-and-dealer. It still amused Shin far more than it should. It probably showed on his face as he took one last drink from the bottle and climbed to his feet and went in search of his keys. He found them stuck inside one of his shoes.

\--

“Yeah, didn’t I just say?” Mako snorted, setting his lit cigarette aside in the already piled high ashtray. He pulled his shirt back on and didn’t bother buttoning up the fasteners at the collar, running one hand absentmindedly through messy, choppy bangs falling over his eyes. Shin had just guzzled down wine and was planning to drive. Some none too small part of Mako instantly became filled with dread.

He followed Shin outside (locking up behind him out of reflex), down the stairs, and onto the street, the teal blue and cream scooter coming into view. The firebender climbed onto the worn backseat, cracked leather sticking to the now mostly dried line of motor oil crusted on upper leg of his pants. Shin was an aggressive driver and it usually only took a few seconds before Mako was clinging desperately to his waist and clothing, but he politely maintained his distance. His grip on the side handlebars near the back of the seat was already turning his knuckles white.

\--

Shin didn’t bother with things like helmets, though he heard there would soon be an ordinance passed that would require riders to wear them. Shin hated the very idea. They hampered sight and kept him from feeling the wind tearing at his hair as he took the corners at the highest speed he could force out of Mei Mei’s little engine. Wearing a helmet would take all the fun out of riding a motorbike. There’d simply be no point to it -- he might as well get a damn car, then.

Straddling Mei Mei, his teal newly reissued Sato Industries Classics moped, Shin waited for Mako to climb onto the back. He even wait long enough for Mako to get a decent grip on the seat’s handhold before he stuck the key in. (Shin was feeling benevolently kind that day. The punishing heat had clearly gotten to him.) A minute later, he was two blocks away, laughing wildly as he zigzagged between Satomobiles clogging the road during the rush hour traffic. Fast, then slow. Accelerate, then hard break, turning left, right, trick hop over a curb and past a screaming lady. Shin put a bit of extra zing in his hard bank around a mailbox and the terrified municipal worker pulling mail from it, just to hear both the man and Mako scream. Just to hear everyone scream. Back onto the road and then past a pair of surprised cops. He was three blocks down and out of sight long before they managed to drop their fried ricecakes and got their fat asses onto the road.

Just imagining Mako’s expression made a wide grin of sadistic glee appear on Shin’s narrow face, transforming his features into something decidedly predatory and shark-like.

He had to admit it -- feeling those thin arms tighten around him in sheer terror, hearing the boy’s screams as he careened wildly through the city, made his day. Every. Single. Time.

\--

“How far away i-WHOA, _GE GE_... !” Mako squealed, his heart leaping into his throat as Shin gunned the engine and sped off. He tightened his thighs around the scooter desperately and clenched his teeth in a terrified grimace, both hands cementing themselves to the grips. During a slow lull, he tried to relax, only to gasp and whine again as Shin swerved between a delivery truck and a long, elegant cab style satomobile, the spare tire mounted on the side fenders scrapping against the outside of his left knee. His driving cap fell between them and Mako’s cheek smushed against Shin’s bony spine when he came to a screeching halt, the boy’s arms instantly snaking around the elder man’s waist as his fingers laced together in a deathgrip.

 

Mako wailed again as he felt MeiMei tilting dangerously to one side, his own light weight heaving him off the seat with his right leg stuck in the air as he held on Shin for dear life. The sound of sirens made him dare a glance back, but the scooter was already weaving and bobbing between heavy traffic, leaving the Metalbending Police far behind a deadlock of idling vehicles. A fierce, nervous grin flashed as they managed to avoid the authorities for what seemed like the fiftieth time, Mako tilting his chin up to stare at the back of the gangster’s head as he whooped and cackled like a madman. The firebender squeezed his arms around the driver as their shirt tails flapped in the breeze, burying the side of his face against Shin’s sun-warmed back and closing his eyes in comfortable silence. He could fall asleep like this, if it weren’t for the erratic jumps in speed and rough handling.

\--

Mako was a strange kid, parts prickly (understandable) and sticky sweet (not so understandable). ‘ _Ge ge_ ’ was a recent development that Shin wasn’t sure what to think about, but as he did with half the things that exited the boy’s mouth, he ignored it. His reputation as a completely thoughtless guy wasn’t for nothing, after all. At any rate, it was probably a slip of the tongue due to their relative ages -- Mako would be disrespecting Shin’s age and rank, soon enough. Shin forgot about Mako’s sudden and inappropriately close term of endearment as he dodged past another cop car, losing it around the curb as he took off down a narrow alley and swerved through the garbage left piled at the back of a restaurant.

It didn’t take long for them before they hit the curb outside of the Lotus Garden, Wong and Wu’s little herbal remedy place with the nifty little hidden basement shop. Aside from old-fashioned medicines, they also did brisk business in both illegally reproduced erotic texts and hand-copied student papers. Shin rather liked the place. They had picture books Wu’s stash of homebrew was the smoothest in the district. Still, that didn’t erase the fact that they were also one of numerous business associates that were consistently late in payments. Maybe he was just too soft on them. Shin couldn’t recall the guy before him having this much trouble. Then again, the guy before him vanished mysteriously one night, only to wash up against the pier in pieces. Shin’s cultivated relationships were a hassle, but it’d mean he’d at least get something of a prior warning before something similar happened to him.

He slammed on the brakes, nearly jettisoning both himself and Mako from the seat as the back wheel spun and left a black streak across pavement, curb and sidewalk. “Stay here,” Shin said, tossing a few coins at Mako. “Get yourself something to eat and watch MeiMei.”

Nothing about the Lotus Garden smelled like lotus or gardens. Barrels of dried fungus and low-grade seafood sat out in the open while tall glass jars of the good quality stuff sat high up on shelves behind the counter. He’d be able to reach them with a good water whip, but Shin had never reached the sort of desperation that sent him after herbal remedies as opposed to a healer’s. Wong, a shrivelled and mannish old lady of Earth Kingdom origins was doing the accounting at the register. Her fingers flying with lightning speed over the abacus while she scrawled a string of numbers in one column and row upon rows of 正 in another. Shin’s brows raised as he glanced at the ledger upside down and saw the large tally count. The old lady gasped as his shadow fell over the edge of the thick book and she abruptly slammed it shut.

“No peeking,” she hissed.

“This week’s lottery looks like it’s got a big pot. Funny, though, considering we still haven’t seen the shares for last month’s. And where’s Wu?” Wu was Wong’s cousin, married in from the mother’s side, though they looked enough alike that they might as well have been siblings. He was a strange fellow. Quiet and prone to lurking in dark corners, unmoving and mostly hidden. Shin was more likely to feel him breathing down the back of his neck than actually lay eyes on him. He’d asked about it to Ming and a few of the other Threat men and women who all mentioned something similar, so he figured it wasn’t anything personal. It didn’t keep Wu from being an awkward, creepy fuck, though.

\--

Skinny arms already wrapped about Shin’s midsection tightened like the coils of a boa constrictor as the scooter wailed and screamed to a stop near the edge of the curb, Mako wincing visibly as he slammed facefirst into the elder man’s back. The kid slowly pulled away and exhaled a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, limbs still tense and uncertain. The flash of sunlight against the assorted values of yuans in coin form made him snap to attention, deft hands snatching the money from the air like the talons of a starving kestrel after it’s prey. He didn’t even have time to thank Shin before his colorful jacket swept inside, the paneled door closing behind him.

After mentally counting his funds, Mako idled at his place on the backseat of Shin’s ride, tugging at the collar of his shirt on and off. Now that they were outside again, the heat and humidity was really getting to him… Luckily, there was a convenience store not too far from where his business partner had stopped.

He brushed aside curtains made with assorted wooden beads and made a beeline to the icebox, the store cat sliding one lazy, slitted eye open at the noise before losing interest and falling asleep once more. It’s seal point tail flicked slowly from where it was drapped over the edge of the front counter.

Mako closed his eyes and sighed out a breath as chilling air billowed from the metal and wooden cooling unit he’d opened, basking in the refreshing coldness. Various ice cream bars and small, single serving cups were neatly stacked by type and flavor, making his already warmth-addled and sluggish brain reel from the choices. There was a sherbet bar he’d always wanted to try, but it was on the expensive side. Deciding to stretch out the meager allowance Shin had given him, Mako pulled up the cheapest and most common treat from the back of the box.

Once paid for, he slid the wrapper off, a dull brownish-red cylinder of frost-encrusted red bean ice cream (slow cooked in raw sugar, nothing fancy) glinting in the sun. He tossed the wrapper and tightened his grip on the thin wooden stick at the bottom, wetting his lips before sucking at the end of his snack for the afternoon.

Back at the front of the Lotus Garden, Mako leaned against the wall and hid beneath the shade of the roof awnings, staring at nothing in particular. The boy tried to make his popsicle last for as long as it could, without melting, watching satomobiles and other pedestrians pass his stationary guard post before MeiMei. He lost track of how many minutes passed as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Curiosity and boredom getting to him, he wiped at the  dusty window panes nearest to him and peered inside, looking at various items within the store and searching for Shin to determine how much longer he’d be. It wasn’t anything exciting from his standpoint- just a whole lot of talking.

When the elder man noticed (or felt the staring) and glanced back in his direction, Mako lazily waved his fingers at him to show he was doing his job. For absolutely no reason at all, the moment re-energized him from his listless state, an odd sort of giddy cheerfulness that made him want to move around and find something else of interest. He flashed Shin a wide smile and pressed a hand against the window before turning from it again, walking back over to the edge of the sidewalk to climb and hang off one of the carved stone guardrails flanking the corner of the street.

\--

What? What was that? Shin froze as a brilliant smile spread across Mako’s small face and backlit the fresh smudges his fingers left on the store’s window pane. It completely transformed him, turning him from a sullen, dirty little street rat into... a little boy. Just a normal, happy little boy.

Feeling unaccountably disturbed, Shin shook himself and turned back to the steadily escalating discussion over the whereabouts of his damn money; except both Wong and Wu (who’d come out from behind the shelf he’d been hiding behind) had both stopped speaking and were instead, staring at him strangely. “What?” Shin demanded. Then repeated himself as the two shopkeepers looked at each other.

“The boy seems very happy,” Wong said, delicately.

“I was checking on my scooter,” Shin said, feeling suddenly defensive.

"The scooter is fine, but your expression--"

Shin glared. "What's my expression gotta do with anything?"

"Nothing at all," said Wong with appeasing hand motions. "It's just that he seems happy and you do not and perhaps a little smile might to go a long way…" Oh for crying out loud. Shin slammed his hand down on the countertop with enough force to rattle the small metal utensils and waits that littered the glass surface.

"You know what'll make me smile?" Shin said threateningly as he leaned in. Both Wong and Wu moved back a step. "How about the two of you. Give. Me. My. Money. You're months late. If you keep this up, it’ll be you, not me that’s gonna be responsible for what’ll happen."

Wong looked as if she had something to say that wasn’t “Yes, I’ve got your money right here.” Shin continued, his voice dipping lower, "You know I've been real lenient with you guys. I know you think that since I'm not like the guy before me, things can be a little more relaxed now... Well that is true. Haven't you been more relaxed already? Haven't we all been? You like that, right? I do too. You don’t have to go staring over your shoulder no more, wondering when you’re gonna get hit in the face. I don’t like the banged up knuckles and you like seeing out of both eyes. Win-win for the both of us. The thing is, you just about used up the last of my good will. You remember what happened to Suilin, don't you? Do we need of a repeat of that? I really don't want us and what we’ve got going here to end up going that direction, but I if you push me, I will. You know I will."

Wong clutched at her necklace, having stepped back far enough that she was pressed against the wall of wooden drawers. Wu on the other hand, was leaning forward in doing that creepy eye-bugging thing. Good. It didn’t do for them to forget that he wasn’t at all above some of the things his fellow Triple Threat bros were capable of. His point made, Shin growled, "I know you've been squirreling money away. I don't know what for or why. But I do know that if you go into that back room there and dig around in that little tin money box of yours... If you gave me what you owe me, plus the interest (don’t think I forgot that), then I'll be right outta your hair. You can go back to business and I can go home and go to my bed. That's all I want."

Whatever it was that Wu wanted to say, Shin cut it off with a shout. Jars filled with preservative water and a nearby pot of tea began to ice over his rage. One of the jars began to crack internally under the pressure -- but then it stopped as Shin was distracted; something had caught his attention from the corner of his eye. Cutting off mid-sentence, Shin held up a hand and looked outside.

Meimei was there in all her teal glory. And so was Mako, still sitting perched on a guardrail like a spindly bird. He was also half fallen out of his grubby shirt and sucking on an obscene, reddish tube-shaped thing. A well-dressed, well put together man had stopped to speak with him. It was all very innocuous looking, the sun, the boy, a kindly man with a kindly expression on his face. It was also all sorts of wrong. What did guys dressed like that want with little boys in the street? Nothing good, that’s what. Shin stalked to the door and yanked it open with a jangle of bells and chimes. "Oi," Shin growled, sticking his head out. He waved Mako over and then, after a moment, came out to glare at the man. "What do you think you're doing?" Shin hissed to Mako, not caring at all that the man would be able to hear him. "Don't talk to that guy. He's gotta be a pervert."

\--

Mako watched the traffic for a time before boredom and heat began to addle his brain. He sat on the stone railing, watching Shin from the window with a passive expression. His red bean pop began dripping all over his hand, so he tried sucking at the melting bits and licked his hand clean as best he could. A shadow fell over his eyes and he squinted up at the stranger who’d stopped before him suspiciously.

He wasn’t really listening to anything the man had to say- Mako wasn’t a complete rube. He could tell the stranger was kinda creepy, but when Shin came blustering out looking ready for a fight, the young boy felt oddly happy about the elder man’s sudden concern.

Hopping off the guardrail, ice pop still between his red-stained lips, Mako walked over to Shin’s side and glanced up at the waterbender from beneath messy black bangs.

“I dunno,” he admitted with a shrug, twirling the ice cream between his fingers silently. “You’re worried about me or somethin’? I can handle myself, you know...” he muttered, feigning disinterest as Shin glared and hovered protectively. He sucked at the end of his popsicle idly and glanced at the suit-wearing man lingering a few steps away.

“I’ll be fine. You sure everything’s going okay with Frik and Frak, though?” he asked curiously. Normally, business didn’t take this long and Mako suspected that Wong and Wu might be trying to play at something. He wasn’t sure if he could help out there, but if his _ge ge_ needed some back up being... persuasive, then he’d try to be useful.

\--

And what exactly was he expecting to do, Shin wondered, set Wu’s hair on fire? There was a thought. For a moment, Shin entertained the image of little Mako, sneezing everything in the dusty store into flames. Then with a small derisive snort, he muttered, “Wait here. I’ll be quick.”

He left Mako idling by the front door, well within sight. The man had moved on, but Shin wasn’t above breaking every window in the shop with a set of well-placed ice spikes if he showed up again. There were a few things that sent Shin into a rage, and the rich showing up to have their fun with the local kiddies because no one cared, that got right up Shin’s nose. They had their own fat, well-bred bratlings to diddle. Hands off the ones that had other things to worry about -- at least until they were old enough to know what they were getting into.

Back in the shop, it turned out he still had to waterbend those ice shards. Jars shattering all around in a noisy explosion of glass and preserved herbal remedies, Shin made a showy display of bending that required enough effort and concentration that afterwards, when Wong and Wu crawled out from under the counter and ran for the till, he decided the rest of the day would be best spent in bed. With an illustrated book or two. Ones which Wu would supply himself. The creep.

When he left the shop to find Mako again, his pants pocket bulging, he said, “Alright, now we’re done. What are you doing with that? You look stupid with all that crap dripping down your face.” Mako’s face was clean, actually, but it was best not to tempt fate or any other street perverts by letting him sit there and suck on things. Shin bent and snatched the red bean popsicle right out of Mako’s hands with his teeth. It tasted wonderful after all that head-steaming rage, exertion and the summer’s humity half-melting him. Slurping noisily he waved at Mako to follow and sauntered back toward MeiMei. His work for the day was done and now for his well-earned rest until the next time the Big Boss called for him to perform various personal errands. He’ll have Mako ferry the slips over to the book keepers later.

\--

Shin seemed to have a renewed sense of vigor in dealing with the twins, as Mako heard from the screaming and sound of shattering glass and pottery. Waiting for the commotion to die down, Mako kept a watchful eye on the scooter, making sure no cops dropped by to inspect the parking job, leave a ticket, or otherwise disturb Shin while he was working.

The elder man looked much happier (and his pockets fuller with yuans) when he exited a second time, Mako tipping the brim of his cap back with a sly smile.

“Hey-” he half complained when Shin stole his ice cream, cheeks still full with baby fat flushing slightly in silent annoyance and... something else. He pushed off the ledge and padded behind Shin obligingly, stopping once the lanky gangster had clambered back onto the scooter.

Had Shin honestly been that worried about him to think he was so naive as to wander off with suspicious, grinning men in nice clothes? Especially ones who would, on any other day, sooner shove him out of the way than acknowledge his mere existence. The thought was still insulting, but Mako couldn’t manage much more than a half-hearted glare and a small sigh of acceptance.

At least he’d cared, at all.

When he was snapped back to the present, Mako shook his head and pushed his newspaper boy cap back with a grin. Leaning a small hand against the elder man’s shoulder, Mako ducked in quick and fast and left a soft peck of his lips against Shin’s cheekbone, quickly climbing onto MeiMei’s backseat while the man was still recovering from the shock.

\--

Shin waited with uncharacteristic patience as he straddled his moped and worked away at the stolen red bean icepop. There was still so much of it that had yet to melt away. In this heat? -- It must’ve started off the size of his head. How much had the thing cost? He squinted at Mako as he skulked red-faced around in front of the shop before finally heading toward him.

He was about to complain at how long Mako was taking as the boy clambered onto the back of MeiMei, when unexpectedly, a pair of warm, underaged lips pressed themselves against his cheek. For the second time that day, Shin was frozen in place. He slowly turned away, staring sightlessly at the ignition. His keys were no help as they dangled silently from it.  Shin gnawed away at the ice, the cold burning his teeth, until a chunk fell away and down his front, forcing him to fumble and catch it before it rolled all the way to the ground. Waste is bad, he thought, absently.

He twisted in his seat to look Mako over again, noting the length of his eyelashes and curve of his cheek. He was going to be a real lady killer when he grew up, unless... “Are you --” Shin began, then stopped himself. Are you going to turn out to being one of those dress wearing sorts? That was hardly an appropriate question to ask a boy his age. In Shin’s life, the only people willing to trespass his boundaries and engage in public displays of affection were either women, or the bearded ladies in the Red Lantern district. Men were far more liable to punch him in the face. With the burning sensation of the light kiss on his face, the increasing physical closeness, the overly affectionate turns of phrases... Shin shook himself. Maybe he would, maybe he wouldn’t go that route.

It wasn’t his business. Though, if the boy ever needed advice on how not to tear a pair of hose,  he’d know the direction to point him.

Shin hastily shoved the last of the ice pop at Mako, and said, “Here. Eat the rest of that fast and when we pass some cops, throw the stick in their eye.” He started up the moped and pulled away from the curb. For a short while, he drove at what was, for him at least, a sedate pace. Then at the turn off the main road, at the bridge where traffic had piled up for a good hour, Shin hissed and gunned it weaving his way between overheated cars and their furious drivers. Suckers. Serves all of ya right for choosing to ride in bread boxes.

\--

Mako laced his skinny arms around Shin’s waist and pressed against his back, not minding the bony sharpness of his vertebrae that was barely cushioned by his threadbare shirt. Glancing upwards in mild confusion, the youngster  blinked slowly- once- giving the elder man large doe eyes without realizing.

“Huh?” he asked, inclining his head until the short brim of his cap nearly bumped against the gangster’s shoulderblade to try and understand what he was asking.

The firebending boy recoiled as the red bean pop was jabbed at his face, wrapping his fingers around the stick to try and wolf the rest down as quickly as he could. He did an admirable job, both cheeks bulging as he chewed down the melting ice cream and swallowed. A muffled, agonized wail sounded from the depths of his chilled throat and he clenched his hands into fists in Shin’s shirt.

_Brainfreeze._

He continued to hang on for dear life once the scooter’s momentum picked up, the stabbing sensations in his head eventually receding with time. By the time he’d opened his eyes again, they were passing over a suspension bridge overlooking the water. The afternoon sunlight dappled over the gentle waves lapping against the stone walls directing the flow through that part of the city, the pair of them leaving a queue of angry, impatient drivers behind in their wake. The oppressive heat and general boredom he’d felt earlier was quickly forgotten as Mako watched Shin cackle and bang his fist against the hood of a random Satomobile they (illegally) slipped past, threading his fingers together tightly just in case the elder man’s mirth lead to even more reckless stunts.

As gross and off as the tiger-apples back in Shin’s apartment were, he’d always wanted to try cutting slices into rabbit shapes. He’d seen them before, in packaged meals the supermarket sold for people who didn’t have time to cook for themselves. Depending on what was leftover in the fridge, he could start making a cold lunch for tomorrow. Shin generally ate whatever was placed in front of him. Even if that wasn’t exactly a positive reflection on his own cooking abilities, he still felt accomplished and pleased when his lunches were wolfed down to the very last grain of rice.

 

 


End file.
